The Searchers

“YOU GO IN THERE and tell her the child is dead or por Dios, I’ll make you wish you’d never been born yourself!”

An inch away from his wife’s face, Segundo Alvarez jerked his thumb toward the room at the rear of their shack, his voice as sharp as the axe he carried every day to the emerald mines. “Tell her it’s dead then get rid of her. ¿Comprendes?”

Renita darted a look past her husband to the bedroom. Her niece was lying in a bloody mess on the bed, the midwife, Amarilla Rodriguez, still working beside her. Bringing her terrified gaze back to Segundo, Renita knew pleading for mercy was useless but she had to try.

“Segundo, por favor… She’s weak, she’s sick, she just gave birth…” Renita shook her head, her eyes filling before she could stop them. “I can’t throw her out, she’s my only family. And I can’t tell her the baby died! It’s not right to—”

Without any warning, Segundo raised his hand and backhanded her. She fell to the dirt floor with an involuntary cry, biting her lip savagely, the sharp sting of blood and pain flooding her mouth. The taste enraged her, and she glared at her husband, her hand against her face.

“How can you do this?” she screamed. “She’s just a teenager! If they find out, they’ll kill us all!”

“They won’t find out,” he said ominously. “I’m going to take care of everything.” Stepping closer, he swung his hand up and she flinched, but instead of hitting her again, he jabbed a finger toward the bedroom. “Go in there and tell her. Then make her disappear. I won’t have a puta like her under my roof! I’m a God-fearing man.”

To punctuate his order, he kicked her hard, the edge of his cheap leather boot catching her squarely in the chest. Red stars exploded in her vision but Segundo gave her no time to think about her agony. Instead, he yanked her to her feet, his grip on her elbow the single thing holding her up. His words were hot against her face, his breath fetid. “I’m warning you, Renita. You get her out of here, or I will.” His jaw tightened. “¡Esto me molesta!”

“But the baby…” she whimpered.

“I will handle the bastard and his father, too.” He squeezed her arm until his thumb met his fingers, then he shook her as a dog would a rag. “When I get back, she’d better be gone. If she isn’t, I’ll take care of her myself and you’ll like that even less.”

He released her abruptly and she fell to the floor, tiny puffs of dirt rising from his angry footsteps as he stomped out of the house. Stunned with pain and guilt, Renita wrapped her arms around her waist and struggled to recover her breath. Then she lifted her eyes and met the midwife’s gaze. Amarilla’s blank expression reflected none of Renita’s anger and helplessness. She’d seen too much in her lifetime; she knew she couldn’t change what was about to happen.

Renita buried her face in her hands and began to sob. The blood-soaked midwife turned to the bed and gently took the young girl’s hand. Compared to the women whose children she delivered, Amarilla was old, but the week before, for the very first time, she’d given birth herself and had a new daughter. She didn’t have to imagine the pain her words were about to inflict. Her rough voice held sympathy as she leaned over the bed and spoke.

They heard the scream all the way to the square.

CHAPTER ONE

Muzo, Colombia

Eighteen years later

THE EMERALD WEIGHED at least fifty carats, probably more.

Hefting the uncut stone in his hand, Shepard Reyes turned to the window as his helicopter rose into the air. A cloud of fine, black dust, stirred by the spinning rotors, enveloped them, then the chopper gained altitude and escaped the choking darkness. Shepard put his hand against the bulletproof glass and stared into the open pit a hundred feet below.

The Muzo mine was the oldest, largest and most productive emerald mine in the world. And the Reyes family had owned it since the conquistadores had come to Colombia.

He’d seen the cuts across the mountain’s top thousands of times but Shepard always had to look. He’d spent years learning the Muzo’s secrets and no one else in the family knew the mine as he did, including his brother, Javier, who was in charge of the family business.

The pilot set his headings for Bogota and seconds later the mine was gone, lost in the mountain mist. Dropping the stone into his briefcase, Shepard wished the problem he’d learned of this morning would be as easy to leave behind, but his gut told him it wasn’t going to go away. At least not until he made it do so.

The peasant woman had come to his office early, before the miners changed shifts. Her name had meant nothing to him, but he’d politely shaken her hand and directed her to sit. He was frequently approached by the wives or mothers of the men who worked in the mine to settle some kind of dispute or fix some problem they’d gotten into. They knew who the real jefe was; they expected Shepard to help and he did. That’s how things were done in Colombia.

She’d perched on the edge of the chair and refused his offer of coffee. Waiting for her to speak, he’d put her age somewhere between thirty and fifty—she wore the exhausted look of someone who worked hard…and never stopped. But her clothes were clean, and she had an appealing way about her even though she was clearly uncomfortable sitting before him.

“What can I do for you, señora?” he’d finally prompted.

She looked down at the floor and spoke softly. “You have already done more than I could ever ask for,” she answered. “I came here today to do something for you.”

“I’m sure you owe me nothing, but please tell me how I’ve helped you. I’d like to hear your story.”

“I have a son who is five,” she said. “He couldn’t run like the other children and he’d get tired very quickly.” With an expression of distress, she put her hand on her chest. “I took him to one of the clinics you opened, and the doctors in Bogota, they operated on his córazon…” Her smile transformed her face. “You saved my child’s life, so I wanted to thank you.”

“I’m glad the doctors could help.”

And he was. For years, the miners had suffered conditions no one should have to endure. Neither Javier nor their father, Eduard, had thought their workers needed anything more so Shepard had put up his own money to build and staff the small hospital.

“I want to pay you back, señor.”

“You owe me nothing.” Shepard looked at the files on his desk. Javier’s name was on the letterhead, but it was Shepard who did all the work, and it was piling up, even as they spoke. “The clinic is free. No one pays for anything.”

“I don’t have money to give you.”

“And that’s fine—”

“I have something else, though.”

“It isn’t necessary—”

“I have a secret.” She ignored his attempt to stop her. “You should have been told about this years ago, but…” She dropped her eyes to her lap and knit her fingers together then looked up at him again. “But I didn’t have the courage. Now I must tell you.”

Her words intrigued him, despite the work he had calling to him. “Go on.”

“Something happened in my village a long time ago and you need to know about it.”

With a sudden uneasiness, Shepard stood and came closer to where she sat, taking the other chair in front of his desk.

“My niece had a child.” She studied Shepard’s face. “He had your look about the eyes, but that’s it. He resembled his father more.”

“His father?” Shepard’s gut tightened. “And that would be…?”

“Your brother, of course.”

Shepard closed his expression and rose. He’d been fooled, but she’d seemed sincere, unlike the others who’d approached him in the past. “I don’t handle Señor Javier’s affairs,” he said coldly. “If you want help for the boy, go to him, not me.”

“You don’t understand—”

“I understand perfectly, señora.” Shepard returned to the other side of his desk. “You are not the first to come here and ask for money, believe me.”

She stood up, as well. “I’m not asking for money and I’m not talking about Señor Javier. The boy’s father was Señor Renaldo.”

His hand on the back of his leather chair, Shepard froze. “Renaldo is dead.”

“I know that. But he wasn’t dead eighteen years ago. He and my niece were lovers and they had a child. He was born the day his father died.”

“Your niece…?”

“Was Maya Vega.”